British Classical Music: The Land of Lost Content

Saturday, 25 May 2019

There are 98
recordings of Ludwig van Beethoven’s monumental 33 Variations on a Waltz by
Anton Diabelli, Op.120 (1819-1822) in the current Arkiv Catalogue (accessed
19/03/19). Some will re-presentations of individual performances, and I guess
that there will be dozens of historical recordings that have not [yet] been
remastered and reissued. It is a phenomenal number. I admit straightway that I
have not compared recordings for this review. Beethoven is not my preferred
composer, so when I do listen to his music, it is likely to be an ‘old
favourite.’ And if I were to want to hear to the current work for pleasure
it would be in the Alfred Brendel recording released in 1990. It is simply an
age/historical thing!

I have reviewed this work played by Christina Bjørkoe, also on the Danacord label (DACOCD747), for MusicWeb International. I looked back at that assessment and realised that I had highlighted the
fact that her playing time was 72:31, whereas Brendel clocked in at 52: 36. I
noted that Bjørkoe seemed to play every repeat.
I am not a Beethoven scholar, so I am not sure what the currently accepted
rules are for these ‘repeats’ in the context of the Diabelli Variations. All I
remember is that it made a long work. On the other hand, Bjørkoe’s performance
did catch my imagination, despite its length. Gustav Piekut’s reading is just
under the hour, so I guess it is more traditional in duration.

Just to remind the
listener of the historical background of the Diabelli Variations. The work
resulted as a commission from the composer/publisher Anton Diabelli for a
single variation from thirty-three composers. The proceeds of the volume were
to go to the widows of fallen soldiers in the Napoleonic Wars. It was to be based in a short piece in waltz
time that he (Diabelli) had composed. This theme has been described as ‘banal’, ‘trite’ and ‘a beer hall
waltz’: it is certainly no masterpiece. Unfortunately for poor old Diabelli,
Beethoven declined the offer to provide a contribution, but then decided to
write all 33 variations himself! What happened to the original concept: did
Schubert, Czerny and Hummel contribute?The answer is Yes! It comprises Part II of Vaterländischer Künstlerverein and ended up with variations contributed by 51
composers, many of whom are now long-forgotten. Part I was Beethoven’s offering,
composed during 1819 and revised in
1822-23.

Tradition has it
that composing the Variations 'amused Beethoven to a rare degree' and that it was written 'in a rosy
mood' that was 'bubbling with unusual humour' (Anton Schindler cited by Alfred Brendel).
Even a non-Beethoven enthusiast like myself can see that the theme has
potential, despite its ordinariness. Beethoven created a work that evolves from
the opening tune. This is a cumulative piece: not one that can have odd
variations extracted for standalone performance. So, really, the listener must
dedicate an hour of their life, sit down, and attend from end to end. Beethoven
extracts virtually everything of value from the ‘theme’: this includes harmonic
devices, rhythms and melodic phrases. Virtually every pianistic device known to
composers of Beethoven’s generation including nods to J.S. Bach, fughetta,
tremolos, octaves and a powerful balance between ‘advanced’ dissonance and naïve triadic harmonies are presented. But overall, what a listener expects, and the pianist must provide is a consistent narrative
that somehow moulds this massive collection of seemingly disparate music into a
powerful synthesis. This fusion must lead towards the massive fugue - the penultimate
variation. For me, Gustav Piekut manages to present the whole structure, the
continuity and the technical virtuosity of these variations with power, grace,
humour and understanding.

I was disappointed
with the liner notes. Firstly, they are printed with an eye-watering yellow
font on a black background. Why do record companies go for ‘arty’ rather than
‘utility’? The actual notes are short, but they are succinct and give the
potential listener all the information required including a brief biography of the
pianist. They are given in Danish and English.

I have not come
across Gustav Piekut before. According to the CD flyer, he is hot property ‘as
one of the most interesting young classical musicians in Scandinavia.’ Piekut
was born in 1995 (making him 24 this year) and made his debut aged 12 with the
South Jutland Symphony Orchestra. He has won a slew of awards including the
Dublin International Piano Competition and the Aarhus International Competition
in 2017. He gained 1st Prize at the Danish National Steinway Piano
Festival ‘three consecutive times.’ He now regularly travels across Europe
giving recitals and playing concertos. The present disc is his debut recording.

It is a tall order
to play what Alfred Brendel has described as ‘the greatest of all piano works.’ I am not sure I agree with the final part of this analysis, but I get
his point.But taking his opinion at
face value, the present performance is certainly worthy of Brendel’s accolade.

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this
review was first published.

Wednesday, 22 May 2019

I found a short review in the Daily Mail dated 8 May 1950.The article opened with a quotation from
Robert Browning:

That’s the wise
thrush; he sings each song twice over,

Lest you should think
he never could recapture

The first fine
careless rapture.’

I wonder how many of the readers
of this newspaper clocked that it was a taken from ‘Home-thoughts from Abroad’?
Probably several more then than in 2019.

Anyway, the review by Maurice
Wiltshire explains. Concert-goers at the Royal Albert Hall on Sunday, 7 May were
‘allowed two bites at the same cherry.’ Wiltshire felt that ‘such luck rarely
falls to composers of serous music.’ The novelty was William Alwyn’s new work,
the Concerto Grosso for strings in G, No.2. It was performed twice at the same
concert: a rare honour indeed. The review quotes the composer as saying: ‘It
was Sir Malcolm Sargent’s idea. He felt an audience ought to be given the
opportunity of hearing a new work twice before giving judgement on it. So few
new works receive a second hearing [before] they have almost been forgotten.’
The article also cites Stanley Bayliss: The Concerto Grosso was ‘capably
played…it began happily reminding us of Bach’s Third Brandenburg Concerto,
though I generally followed the plainer [Humph!] of Handel. The review
concluded with Maurice Wiltshire’s thought that ‘Mr Alwyn seemed to be
presenting the visiting cards of several composers but never actually his own.’

The Scotsman (8 May 1950) takes a less-dramatic and more balanced
view of the proceedings. It notes that the idea of performing new works twice
in the same programme in not new. The unsigned critic believes that it is a
good idea and laments the fact that conditions (business considerations) does
not allow it is unfortunate. The possibility of a double performance ‘increases
the composer’s chances of being understood, for few listeners would claim an
immediate and complete comprehension of any piece of music at one
hearing.’But turning to Alwyn’s
novelty, he suggests that ‘it is hard to see why [it] should have been chosen
to be performed in this manner, for it is a pleasant and unpretentious work of
direct appeal, containing little that required clarification by a second
performance…’

The London Symphony Orchestra was
conducted by Sir Malcolm Sargent. The first half of the concert included Mozart’s Figaro Overture. The
main work in the second half was Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 4 which was
played with ‘purpose and efficiency’ (The
Scotsman, 8 May 1950) by Moura Lympany.

William Alwyn’s Concerto Grosso
for strings in G, No.2.was dedicated to Muir Mathieson, who had a long
association with William Alwyn’s film music. It is written for strings only
which features a string quartet contrasting with the full string orchestra. This
is seen to best effect in the slow movement. The work is presented in a strict
classical form.

Sunday, 19 May 2019

To my shame, I tend to slowly lose
interest in Michael Tippett’s catalogue as his career developed. For example, I
am a great enthusiast of the Concerto for Double String Orchestra written in
1938-9: I do not enjoy (but can admire) the opera The Knot Garden or The Songs
of Dov. Naturally, there are exceptions to this rule. I love The Blue Guitar written in 1982-3 and
the late The Rose Lake for orchestra
(1991-3). One genre that I have always been (more or less) comfortable with are
the four symphonies. From the largely neo-classical First Symphony, through the
exciting and imaginative Second, to the adventurous fusion of Beethoven and
Blues in the Third and to the complex Symphony No.4, I have appreciated the diversity
and musical exploration of these works.I
do not know them as well as I should.

The music of Tippett has slipped
into the doldrums. I was surprised to be reminded that there are only two
complete cycles of the Symphonies – the present Martyn Brabbins edition and
part of the ground-breaking survey of Tippett’s orchestral music made by
Richard Hickox in the mid-nineteen-nineties. There are also the Colin Davis/London
Symphony Orchestra Philips recordings of the first three dating back to the
1960s and 70s. The Symphony No.4 was recorded by George Solti with the Chicago
Symphony Orchestra in 1979, also on the Philips label. In 1993, the composer
conducted the Second and the Fourth for the NMC label. So, the current project
is important: it is first complete cycle of Tippett’s Symphonies in quarter of
a century.

I first heard a performance of
the Third Symphony during a Glasgow Promenade Concert in early 1970s. I was
bowled over by this very unbalanced but ultimately succesful work. I bought the
Philips LP with Sir Colin Davis conducting London Symphony Orchestra and the
soprano Heather Harper as soon as it was released in 1975.

It is not necessary to give a
detailed account of the Third Symphony: this is provided in the liner notes. The
putative listener is advised to view it as a work in two disparate parts. The first
is purely orchestral with an exposition evolving into a slow ‘movement’. The
main philosophical argument in this section is the concept of ‘Arrest and
Movement; - which could be paraphrased as ‘stop/start’ or maybe even
‘go/no-go’. Tippett has used ‘blocks’ of sound to create his structures with
huge contrasts of mood, orchestration and musical style. The second ‘part’ begins
with a Scherzo that famously quotes Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. This
is followed by four songs, with texts devised by the Tippett. The first three are
blues-influenced and the last is a ‘dramatic scena’ more at home in an opera. There
are some other ‘Beethovian’ allusions in this symphony too.

At first glance there seems to be
no unity of purpose in such a work. Edward Greenfield said that it is ‘two
quite separate works that somehow had got put together and didn’t quite fit.’
This is how I felt about the Symphony in the early days. I recall only
listening to the first ‘half’ of the Davis LP before doing something else. I
did not relate to the songs: only now am I beginning to see a connection. For
some reason it does result in a satisfying symphonic structure. Don’t ask me
why? I have not worked that out yet.

The vibrant playing by the BBC
Scottish Symphony Orchestra is superb.I
enjoyed the gutsy performance by singer Rachel Nichols. She seems a touch more
up front than in the Chandos recording sung by Faye Robinson. As for the Colin
Davis recording with Heather Harper, I can see little to choose between them. In
preparation for this review I listened to extracts from all three versions of
the Symphony No.3. If I am honest, all are superb, all masterclasses…

Tippett’s Symphony No.4 was
premiered in Chicago in 1977 by George Solti and the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra. It is written in a single movement but subdivided into seven
sections which enclose a slow movement and a scherzo as part of the work’s
development. It is correct to suggest that the symphony cannot quite decide
whether it is written in ‘sonata form’, as a ‘free fantasia’ or a tone-poem.
The composer wrote that the metaphysical idea behind the music was the journey
from birth to death. I don’t go for the story that he was inspired by watching
a highly speeded up film of the development of the embryo of a rabbit. And I am
not enthusiastic about the breathing noises created by a wind machine or tape. That
said, the music is striking. It may be that some of the stimulus has come from
Sibelius (7th Symphony) or Richard Strauss’s Ein Heldenleben. Certainly, Tippett’s intention was to create a
work that followed a human life from birth to death. It had to include elements
of ‘self-doubt’ and ‘exhilaration’. In fact, all that is the ‘Condition of
Man.’

The Fourth Symphony is written
for a huge orchestra, which is divided up into several instrumental ‘choirs’
which tend react with each other, rather than to be united.I was awe-struck by the brass chorus with
their powerful and technically demanding sounds. There are some magical moments
too, especially with the tuned percussion. Lyricism (despite some claims to the
contrary) seems to predominate rather than sheer rhythmic activity. I was
impressed by the contrast of ‘walls of sound’ and beguiling passages for solo
instruments.Stylistically, the music
seems to me to a little bit of everything. I hear nods to the early Concerto
for Double String Orchestra, a backward glance to Orlando Gibbons and the more
acerbic and complex sounds of his post-King
Priam music.

On 4 September 1978 I heard the
Prom Performance of the Symphony No.4 with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra
conducted by George Solti. It was not until the remarkable cycle of Tippett’s
Symphonies issued by Chandos in 1994 (Richard Hickox and the Bournemouth
Symphony Orchestra that I heard it again. The present recording is totally satisfying:
Brabbins has emphasised the expressive nature of much of this work. He has
convinced me that this Symphony demands my attention.

A major point of interest for me
on this new CD is the early Symphony in B flat. As it was originally written in
1933, when Tippett was 28 years old, it cannot be regarded as ‘juvenilia.’ It
was premiered by the South London Orchestra in 1933. Following some amendment,
the first movement was played on 12 July 1935 by the London Symphony Orchestra
at the Royal College of Music, conducted by the composer. Despite being the
subject of some further revision, it was subsequently withdrawn.

I accept that this music is
largely unrecognizable as being by Michael Tippett. The exemplars would appear
to be Sibelius and, on occasion someone as unexpected as Gerald Finzi. There
are even hints of Wagner and Brahms.I
can understand (stylistically) why Tippett supressed this work, but I am
grateful to his estate for allowing it to be revived.

Nicholas Kenyon in The Observer (25 February 2018) has made
an ideal call on the work’s value. He suggests that it all ‘sound[s] like a
passionate reinvention of the English pastoral tradition that was part of
Tippett’s background.’ It is an opinion which sums up my feelings entirely. It
may be a bit of a ramble in places, and some of the material is certainly a
little old fashioned. At no time is it at the cutting-edge of 1930s musical
endeavour in England or the Continent. But neither is it a pastiche of Vaughan
Williams or the other ‘greats’ of the day. It may not foreshadow Tippett’s
achievement over the following 50-60 years, but it does present music that is convincing
and above all thoroughly enjoyable. Reading
some of the reviews of the 2018 concert performance, I was expecting to be
impressed. And I was, in spadesful!

The CD liner notes are excellent.
There is a long, detailed essay about all three Symphonies by Tippett expert Oliver
Soden which demands and deserves to be read. This is especially useful in its
study of the Symphony in B flat, as there is nothing much else to base one’s
opinions on. The essay is also printed in French and German. The text from the
‘blues’ section of the Third Symphony is included. Unusually, there is a
complete listing of the orchestral personnel.

I enjoyed this double-CD. It was
good to re-engage with the Symphonies No.3 and No.4: it has been several years
since I listened to them with attention. But for me the ‘prize pippin of the
lot’ was the Symphony in B flat. It may not be a masterpiece, and there could
be structural and aesthetic drop-offs. Nevertheless, it is good to have an approachable
and rather traditional ‘English’ work from Tippett’s pen that acts as a remarkable
‘companion piece’ to my favourite of his works, the Concerto for Double String
Orchestra.

Thursday, 16 May 2019

Recently, I was in the Oxfam Bookshop
based on Penny Street in the fascinating City of Lancaster. They had a
reasonably good selection of classical vinyl LPs and a small stack of sheet
music. In one of the browsers, I found a second-hand copy of Anthems for Choirs: Volume 4. It was
priced at £1.99. Looking through this collection of ‘Twenty-Six Anthems for Mixed
Voices by Twentieth Century Composers,’ I discovered a very short piece by Sir
Arnold Bax (1883-1953): it was the anthem ‘Lord, Thou hast told us.’

Despite my being a Bax
enthusiast, I have never heard of this work. I must have missed it on my
several trawls through Graham Parlett’s essential Catalogue (1999)

The first port of call was YouTube
on the off-chance someone had uploaded a recording of the piece. Sure enough,
there were two lovely videos of this piece, one featuring a short film of the
Scottish landscape between Perth
and Aberdeen, performers not cited, and the other was sung by Saint Clements’ Choir,
Philadelphia. First impressions were of a beautiful miniature.

The basic information about this
piece is straightforward. Arnold Bax composed it in 1930 for inclusion in the
new enlarged edition of Songs of Praise
which was published the following year. The original had been issued in 1925:
it was edited by Percy Dearmer, Martin Shaw and Ralph Vaughan Williams.

This time was a busy one for the
composer. He was living at 155 Fellows Road in Swiss Cottage. Beginning in
1928, Bax spent much time at the Station Hotel (now, Morar Hotel) in Morar,
Inverness-shire. The previous year (1929) had seen his Third Symphony written
in London and in the Scottish Western Highlands. Major works from 1930 include
the now-rarely heard Nonet for flute, clarinet, oboe, harp, 2 violins, viola,
cello and double bass, the large-scale Winter
Legends for piano and orchestra, and the Overture to a Picaresque Comedy for orchestra. The Symphony No.4
was begun in Morar during the Summer of 1930.

Graham Parlett (1999) points out
that the manuscript of ‘Lord, thou hast told us’ has disappeared, so there is
no notion as to its exact date of completion.

‘Lord, thou hast told us’ is not
really an anthem as such, but a hymn tune. This tune is entitled ‘Wonder.’The four-verse text is by the Reverend Dr.
Thomas Washbourne (1606-87). Washbourne was a 17th century clergyman
and poet. He was born in Wichenford Court in Worcestershire which is a small parish
some six miles to the north west of Worcester. After education at Balliol
College, Oxford he held livings as Vicar of Loddington, Northamptonshire and at
Dumbleton in Gloucestershire and latterly as a Prebendary (honorary Canon) at
Gloucester Cathedral. He was an ‘ardent’ monarchist who was appalled at
the execution of Charles I. Thomas Washbourne is recalled for his volume Divine Poems published in 1654. Some of
his poems approach John Donne and George Herbert in their depth and theological
wisdom and spirituality.

Lord! thou hast told
us that there be

Two dwellings which
belong to Thee;

And those two —
that's the wonder —

Are far asunder.

The one the highest
heaven is,

The mansions of
eternal bliss;

The other's the
contrite

And humble sprite.

Though heaven be
high, the gate is low,

And he that comes in
there must bow;

The lofty looks shall
ne'er

Have entrance there.

O God! since Thou
delight'st to rest

Within the humble,
contrite breast,

First make me so to
be;

Then dwell with me.

Thomas Washbourne
(1606-87)

The book Songs of Praise Discussed (London 1933) suggests that ‘Wonder’ ‘…is
clearly founded on the style of the early psalm-tunes but has some individual
touches in rhythm and expression.’ However, there is no suggestion that Bax has
based his hymn in a pre-existing tune. The music is printed on a single page
and consists of 10 bars.

The hymn/anthem is in simple
strophic form, with the same harmonisation used for each verse although there
are slight differences to allow for the textual metre. The tonal centre is
typically F minor (4 flats), but there are modal inflections to this music. The
final chord for each verse is a ‘tierce de picardie’, in other words the minor
third raised to a major third.

The formal structure of the hymn
is straightforward – A B B’A. It opens
in the tonic F minor followed by the dominant chord with E natural. This relative
simplicity of harmonic style continues to the end. Bax makes use of parallel thirds,
especially between the tenor and bass part.

The interpretative challenge for
this piece is managing the dynamics and tempo. I suggest that it is sung slightly
faster than the ‘moderately slow’ signed in the Anthem Book. Each verse should have a dynamic of about ‘mezzo
forte.’ It is possible for a soprano/treble solo to sing the words of the third
verse with a ‘hummed’ accompaniment.

The only contemporary review on
this work that I found was in a Programme
Note (Cantate Choir, 7 June 2006): ‘…this ‘hymn setting [is] of such perfect simplicity and beauty that
it is hard to believe it is from the same pen. It reminds us that many of our
best-loved hymn tunes were written by first-rate English composers.’

The first performance of this anthem/hymn has been impossible
to establish, however Graham Parlett (1999) states that the earliest
performance traced was broadcast from Carlisle Cathedral on ‘Choral Evensong’
on Radio 3, 30 December 1983. It served as the Introit. The afternoon event was
dominated by Bax, with his rarely heard Canticles (Magnificat and Nunc
Dimittis) and the part-song, ‘I sing of a maiden.’ Other music included Psalms
149 & 150 to chants by Charles Villiers Stanford (1852-1924), the Responses by
Richard Ayleward (1626-69), John Rutter’s (b.1945) Gaelic Blessing and the
concluding organ voluntary was the powerful and often scary ‘L'Ange a la
trompette’ by French composer Jacques Charpentier (1933-2017). The performers
were The Abbey Singers conducted by Andrew Seivewright.

Since 1999, Graham Parlett has discovered two earlier
performances during 1983. The first was on 25 February on AR Melbourne,
Australia. The earliest UK performance so far traced was during Sung Eucharist
at Hampton Court Palace on 6 November 1983. It was performed by the Choir of
the Chapel Royal.

Bibliography:

Parlett, Graham, A
Catalogue of the Works of Sir Arnold Bax, (Oxford University Press, 1999)

Monday, 13 May 2019

It is an established fact that
during the 1930’s Eric Coates’s orchestral music displayed one of two
contrasting styles. On the on hand, there was the up-tempo, syncopated
‘dance-band’ mood used in The Three Men
and the London Again Suite. And on
the other, there was the post-Edward German ‘pastoralism’ which came to the
fore in The Meadow to Mayfair Suite
and the present work. Over his career, Eric Coates composed some 13 orchestral
suites: Springtime is the eleventh.

The Springtime Suite has three equally balanced movements: 1. Fresh
Morning: Pastorale, 2. Noonday Song: Romance and 3. Dance in the Twilight:
Valse which reflects the progress of a spring day. Each is around the four-minute mark.The work is scored for woodwind, brass, an
array of percussion including bass drum, cymbals, glockenspiel, side drum,
timpani and triangle as well as harp and strings.

Geoffrey Self writes that this
work has been overshadowed, even in the composer’s own mind. It is not
mentioned in his autobiography, Suite in Four Movements (1953). Self also notes
that it has not ‘received direct attention from the press.’ The work has been
unjustly neglected in comparison to several of his other Suites.

According to Payne, Coates was
working on the Springtime Suite at
the time he moved house from Baker Street to Berkeley Court. This music was
thought out ‘despite the chaos of unpacking.’ In a letter to Harold Lowe (12 June
1936) Coates explained that ‘the work is quite unpretentious and on the lines
of my old “Summer Days”, so please do not expect to hear anything
out-of-the-ordinary.’

Springtime Suite: Fresh Morning.

The opening movement, ‘Fresh Morning’,
looks back to the Edwardian pre-Great War era, with its innocent pastoral mood
and carefree 6/8 rhythm. This certainly nods to Edward German, but also reflects
the style of music that Coates was writing in the immediate post-Great War
years. Coates introduces three tunes, all of which relate to the opening theme.
Toward the conclusion, there is a delicious modulation into a loose and short-lived
Gb major (7 flats). It is a perfect
musical postcard of an English meadow, soaked in dew with the sun just peeping
up from behind the hill.

This is contrasted by a
thoughtful ‘Romance’ that reflects on the sadness of a lost age or lover despite
its title being ‘Noonday Song.’ The movement opens with a wistful flute melody,
before the main ‘yearning’ theme is announced on the solo violin. This tune is characterised
by an upward leap of a minor 7th (e.g. G to F). This leads to a highly-charged
passage for full orchestra and harp culminating in a sweeping ‘allargando.’ The
movement closes with a quiet reminiscence of the opening flute melody. Self
writes that this movement alludes to some of the ideas included in the score Seven Dwarfs, later to be ‘recast’ as The Enchanted Garden.

The final movement, ‘Dance in the
Twilight’, is a splendid example of Eric Coates’ waltzes. I guess the impetus
and drive of this music suggests an evening ‘In Town’ rather that some rural
retreat or village hall. There are four ‘themes’ in this piece that are all
repeated with various endings. Its style may owe more to the ‘Scène du Bal’
from the Miniature Suite or ‘At the
Dance’ (Summer Days Suite) than to
the later ‘London’ based works such as From
Meadow to Mayfair. It is characterised by an optimism that seems
to blow away the sadder reflections of the previous movements.

The Springtime Suite was published by Chappell in 1937.

The first performance of Springtime Suite was on 13 May 1937,
played by Section C of the BBC Orchestra conducted by Eric Coates. Readers
should recall that the Coronation of King George VI had taken place on the
previous day.

This hour-long concert, mostly
conducted by Joseph Lewis, began at 6pm with Benjamin Britten’s delightful
movements on themes by Rossini, Soirees
Musicales. This was followed by the ‘Waltz’ from Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty and thee aria ‘Lend me
your aid’ from Charles Gounod’s opera Irene
(an adaptation of his The Queen of Sheba). The soloist was Parry Jones. The
second half of the concert included the Coates, Michael Balfe’s ‘Come into the
Garden, Maud’ and Haydn Wood’s Fantasia: The
British Empire. This last work was conducted by Wood.

For a modern view of Coates’s Springtime Suite, I quote a sentence
from Rob Barnett’s review of Eric Coates
conducts Eric Coates (Living Era Classics CD AJD201) He writes: The
mid-1930s were a productive time for Coates as we can hear in the rather
hackneyed-bland Springtime Suite
although the final ‘Dance in the Twilight’ is good and kicks the trend rather
well. (MusicWeb International, 7 Jan 2007). I disagree with contention that
this Suite is either hackneyed or bland. However, I can see that Barnett has a
problem with a stylistic appraisal of the final movement. As noted above, this waltz
does seem to belong to the city rather than the country.

Eric Coates conducted the Light
Symphony Orchestra in a recording of the Springtime
Suite made on 24 September 1937. This was released on HMV C2926 & 2927.
On the fourth side of these two 78rpm records ‘For Your Delight: Serenade’
(1937) was also included. Several subsequent recordings have been made.

There is a splendid recording of
Eric Coates’s Springtime Suite on YouTube. It is played by
the BBC Concert Orchestra conducted by John Wilson. It was uploaded from the
now deleted CD ASV CD WHL 2112.

Friday, 10 May 2019

George Gershwin (1898-1937) composed
precious little music for solo piano or piano duet. The few important
(published) works include the Three Preludes dating from 1926 and the George Gershwin's Song-book (1932) which
are solo piano arrangements of 18 songs, ‘Merry Andrew’ and a few other odds
and ends. There are several unpublished pieces. Clearly, there are two-piano
arrangements of the Rhapsody in Blue,
the Piano Concerto and An American in
Paris. I am sure that here and there other examples of Gershwin’s craft that
have been transcribed for piano duet either by the composer or other arrangers.
But that, I think is about it.

The ‘flyer’ for this CD flags up
that the purists (I am one) may frown (I didn’t) at the present arrangements by
Piano à Deux, Linda Ang and Robert Stoodley. The justification is that Gershwin
himself was well-known for arranging, sampling and ‘medleying’ both his own
music and other Tin Pan Alley songs. So, just sit back and enjoy, and worry not
a jot about protocol.

Scenes from Porgy and Bess is excellent. This is really a
well-developed fantasy that re-presents not only the main melodies of this
American masterpiece, but also ‘works in’ musical textures from the
accompaniment and the chorus parts. As such, it is highly successful. The
progress of the music is truly rhapsodic. Beginning with the ‘There’s a Boat dat’s
Leavin’ Soon for New York’ the music passes through several moods before coming
to a beautifully contrived presentation of ‘Summertime’. Another point of
repose is the ‘big’ duet between Porgy and Bess – ‘Bess, you is my woman
now.’Other melodies ‘worked in’ include
‘It ain’t necessarily so’, the up-tempo ‘Oh, I can’t sit down’ and ‘My Man’s
gone now.’ The overall impression is almost Lisztian in its summarising of the
entire opera plot in 18 minutes of well-thought out arrangement.

Both Diversions combines a rarely-heard Gershwin ‘prelude’ with a well-known
song. ‘DiversionI’ opens with ‘Novelette in Fourth’s’ written around 1919. This is
followed by the chorus of ‘Love Walked In’. The second Diversion begins with ‘Rialto Ripples’. This segues into ‘Love is
Here to Stay’ which soon leads to the main rag-time theme once more. The clever
bit is the interlocking of themes. It seems to happen as if by magic. Remarkable.

I am a purist when it comes to
the Preludes. I know that there are only three of them. Gershwin’s intention
was to have written 24 in the tradition of Frederic Chopin’s op.28. Alas, they
were never completed. What Piano à Deux have done is to couple each Prelude
into a song. The songs include ‘Stairway to Paradise’ from the largely forgotten
Broadway review George White’s Scandals,
‘A Foggy Day in London Town’ (A Damsel in
Distress), ‘Someone to Watch over Me’ (Oh
Kay!) and ‘The Man I Love’ (Lady, Be
Good). I am not sure exactly how close to the original piano solo version
of each Prelude this two-piano realisation is.There certainly does seem to be a little bit of creative imagination,
which is all to the good.

I enjoyed An American in Paris Revisited. However, I guess that I wish they played
the original tone-poem for piano duet. What they have done is to introduce ‘By
Strauss’ and ‘I Got Rhythm’ - both derived from the wonderful 1954 film
starring Gene Kelly, for good effect. Perhaps these two numbers could have made
a third Diversion?

The presentation of this CD is outstanding.
The liner notes explain the processes behind these arrangements and includes a
good biography of the pianists. The CD cover features an iconic photograph of
Gershwin at his piano. The recording reflects the vibrancy and subtlety of the
music.

When listening to this CD I had
to swallow my pride and accept that the raison d’etre of Piano à Deux is to divert.
This is not meant to be a definitive performance of Gershwin’s music as originally
written. It is not even a direct transcription of these works. This is a
well-constructed ‘entertainment’, with lots of lovely musical clichés, technical
wizardry and many subtle nods to the composer’s genius.

I have seen Linda Ang and Robert
Stoodley perform aboard a cruise-ship and they present vivacious, sometimes
comedic and always technically-accomplished recitals. This CD explores some of
this ‘show-biz’ feel and is certainly none the worse for that.

Tuesday, 7 May 2019

Listeners who have come across Gainsborough-born
composer John Longmire will most likely have done so for two reasons. Firstly,
his long-time friendship with John Ireland: Longmire was to write one of the
few biographical studies of John Ireland, based on his personal recollections.
Secondly, for his remarkable contribution of piano works to the repertoire for ‘musical
education’.

Residents of the Channel Islands
may recall his tenure as director of music of The Guernsey Choral Society between
1945 and 1954.

In amongst Longmire’s ‘teaching
music’ there are several more demanding piano pieces. The present musical evocation
of ‘Regent Street’ in London is designed as a march, owing much to Eric Coates ‘Oxford
Street’ and ‘Knightsbridge Marches’ from the London Suites.

Although ‘Regent Street’ is categorised
as being for ‘children’ I think that it requires at least Grade 6 ½ to pull it
off properly. The formal structure is quite straight forward. There is a jazzy
main theme which is marked ‘With a swing’ which fairly bounces along. This is
balanced by the ‘trio’ section which is much more serious in content. Like all
good marches, the big tune is reprised toward the end of the work which finally
concludes with a final flourish.

I enjoyed this piece, which evokes
for me one of the most vibrant parts of London. For many years, I would walk
the length of Regent Street at Christmastide enjoying the lights and the many fascinating
shops (sadly some now vanished). Occasionally, I would wander off into the quieter
adjacent lanes such as the Man in the Moon Passage, the once fashionable
Carnaby Street or New Burlington Mews. Finally, reaching the end of the street,
I would visit the ‘heights bar’ at the St George’s Hotel in Langham Place for a
drink overlooking the whole of London, or decamp to ‘The Gluepot’ (The George,
Great Portland Street).

To my knowledge, the only recording
of ‘Regent Street ‘is included on Duncan Honeybourne’s remarkable survey of less-well-known
British piano music on Grand Piano GP789. This album includes music by Leo
Livens, Arthur Butterworth, Christopher Headington and Peter Racine Fricker. It
was released during 2018.

Saturday, 4 May 2019

I was making some edits to this short
essay published back in 2009, and I discovered that I had totally messed up the
text and formatting. The only thing to do was delete the post and start again.
I give no apology for re-presenting these thoughts here – with a few corrections
and edits.

I was introduced to Montague Phillips’s
music through his songs – in particular, Through a Lattice Window and Sea Echoes. I remember discovering these vocal scores in a remarkable
second-hand bookshop in Llandudno during the early 1970s. Since those far-off
days I have kept an eye open for more of Phillips’ music, especially those works
written for piano. Unfortunately, they seem to be a little bit scarce in
libraries of bookshops. I have been
lucky enough to peruse the Three
Country Pictures, his Village
Sketches and the Dance
Revels. Now the beauty of these works is that they are playable by the so-called
‘gifted amateur.’ They are not great works of art but are attractive pieces
that are skilfully written and lie well under the hands. The ‘suite’ genre was ubiquitous
in the first half of the 20th century. We need only think of Felix Swinstead,
Thomas Dunhill and of course, that master of the form, Eric Coates.

In May Time is a good example of this genre. It was originally
composed for the piano and was orchestrated by the composer in the mid
nineteen-twenties. Lewis Foreman (liner notes Dutton CDLX7158) points out that
the original piano score was written for very young piano students – and I am
sure he is correct. However, the orchestral transcription has a subtlety about
it that belies this innocent genesis. There are four attractive movements
entitled, On a May Morning, Daffodil Time, Spring Blossoms and May-time
Revels. The first performance appears to have been given by Dan Godfrey and
the Bournemouth Municipal Orchestra in that town on 4th May 1924. An
appropriate date indeed!

One criticism of this suite is
that the four movements suffer from sameness. There is not an obvious slow
movement. However, the starting point of this work appears to be the dances
from the composer’s opera, The Rebel
Maid. Perhaps there is also a nod or two in the direction of Sir Arthur
Sullivan and Edward German’s Merrie England.

The work opens with an attractive
dance like movement, ‘On a May Morning’ This contrasts the strings and woodwind
in the principal tune. The middle-section is completely different, with will o’
the wisp woodwind figurations that contrast with a romantic tune on the
violins. Soon the opening material returns with great gusto. There are a few
allusions to the big tune before the movement closes with a short coda.

‘Daffodil Time’ is the ‘de-facto’
slow movement. ‘Graceful’ would be more appropriate. Although this movement is
a bit more reflective than the other three, it is still hard to suppress images
of the happiness and the hope of spring.

‘Spring Blossoms’ is the
cutest movement of this suite. There are pretty tunes and counter melodies a-plenty.
The middle section is an attractive theme which is played repeatedly – always
supported by woodwind fluttering above the melody. Perhaps the first
butterflies are on the wing? ‘Spring Blossoms’ ends quietly.

‘May-Time Revels’ owes most
to The Rebel Maid. It is a good-going
dance from start to finish – complete with percussion and fine brass playing.
There is a short reflective middle section that dances its way to the
restatement of opening the ‘Allegro con spirito’ material.

There is no need to read any kind
of programme into any of these pieces – except to recall that Montague Phillips
lived in Esher, which in those days were closer to the countryside than perhaps
is the case in 2019. The composer always responded to the rural environment and
this work is no exception. It is a charming portrayal of the mood of an English
spring day.

Wednesday, 1 May 2019

Haydn Wood’s A May-Day Overture was published 1918 by Hawkes and Son, London.
This certainly suggests that it was a ‘wartime’ work. Wood, who was born in
1882 would have been 32 years old when the First World War commenced, so it is
unlikely he would have been able to volunteer or called up. In 1909, Haydn Wood
had married Savoyard soprano Dorothy Court, a student he had met whilst
studying at the Royal College of Music. From 1913 until 1925 they toured
British music halls. There they presented a series of concerts featuring songs,
ballads, piano pieces and violin works. During this period, Haydn Wood composed
much music, however A May-Day Overture
was the first orchestral piece with which the composer was totally satisfied.
Certainly, it displays the characteristic features of the composer’s mature
style: melody, charm and sheer delight. Other important works written prior to this Overture
included the excellent Piano Concerto in D minor (1912), a lost Symphony (1909)
and the Fantasy-Concerto for string orchestra dating from 1908. There is also
the fugitive Adagio from the B minor Violin Concerto. This is one of most beautiful
movements in the literature.

A May-Day Overture is a delightful little tone-poem that depicts
all the magic of springtime, awakening of nature and the promise of a glorious
summer. May-Day is often associated with dancing around the maypole on the
village green, baskets of flowers, washing one’s face in the dew and the May
Queen Procession. In more ancient days, the Feast of Beltane was celebrated,
marking the halfway point between Spring and Summer. Since 1886, May Day has become
entwined with International Workers’ Day. Wood has chosen to balance the
sentimental attraction of this holiday with the more vibrant excesses of pagan
days. It is certainly music that harks back to the lost Edwardian summers prior to the Great War.

Haydn Wood’s overture opens with
a misty passage on the French horn representing the dawn of the day. This is
answered by ‘bird-calls’ in the woodwind. Then a romantic string tune emerges which
surely has more to do with lovers walking hand in hand than pagan or medieval
traditions. Slowly, the tempo of the music increases, as the sun emerges in its
glory. The becomes more and more abandoned, with just a touch of pagan here and
there. Not quite Rite of Spring, but
something a little more reserved. The work builds up to a sparkling coda, with
barely a reminiscence of the misty start. I often wonder of the inspiration of
this music is the Isle of Man or some secluded nook in the Home Counties? I
plump for the latter, as the music is just that little bit too urbane for Manannán’s
Isle.

A May-Day Overture maybe
classified as ‘light’ music, but this often-misused term does not detract from
Haydn Wood’s skilful development of his material, the sensuous portrayal of the
dawn and the sheer magical quality of the orchestration. It was dedicated Haydn
Wood’s brother Harry, who was a well-respected musician on the Isle of Man for
many years. He was often billed as Manxland’s King of Music.

Haydn Wood’s A May-Day Overture can be heard on Marco Polo 8.223605. It has been
uploaded to YouTube.

Sunday, 28 April 2019

Half a century ago, on Wednesday
9 July 1969, Lennox Berkeley’s Symphony No. 3 in One Movement, op.74 was
premiered at that year’s Cheltenham Festival. Other works heard at this concert
included Albert Roussel’s Piano Concerto (1927) with soloist Claude Helffer and
Hector Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique (1830). Jean Martinon conducted the
Orchestre national de l'Office de radiodiffusion-télévision française (now
Orchestre national de France). The event was attended by the Princess Alice,
Duchess of Gloucester and several local dignities.

This essay will put the Symphony
into context, as well as examining the contemporary critical response. It will
concentrate on the premiere. This is neither a technical analysis nor a
programme note.In a future essay, I
would like to explore the 1973 Promenade Concert performance, as well as the
reception of the two subsequent recordings.

On 1 July 1969, the Investiture
of Prince Charles as Prince of Wales had taken place at Caernarvon. Three days
later Ann Jones, the home favourite, won the Ladies’ Singles at Wimbledon. Her
opponent was Billie Jean King. Neil Armstrong became the first ‘man on the
moon’ as part of the Apollo 11 space programme on 21 July.

The Daily Telegraph (10 July 1969), reporting the news for 9 July noted
that ‘higher rail fares likely’, a threat of rail strikes on British Rail’s
Southern Region and parliamentary ‘trouble’ over the ‘Redistribution of Seats
Bill’. Top of the single charts was
Thunderclap Newman’s ‘Something in the Air.’ The Number One album was Jim
Reeves ‘According to my Heart.’ Competing
with the live BBC Radio 3 broadcast of the Cheltenham concert, were The Good Old Days on BBC1 and Coronation Street on ITV.

Genesis

Stewart Craggs (2000, p.34) notes
that Berkeley began his Symphony No.3 during December 1968, and, completed it in
April 1969. Other works composed around this time include the Windsor
Variations, op.75 (1969) commissioned by the Windsor Festival Society. This has
not been issued on record or CD, although a recording of a radio broadcast
circulates amongst enthusiasts.

During April and May 1969,
Berkeley had been on an extended visit to Paris, Monte Carlo and Toulouse. In
the early months of the year, he wrote his first setting of ‘Ubi Caritas et
Amor.’ A second would follow in 1980. The previous year had seen the completion of the
Magnificat, op.71 (1968), the premiere of the Oboe Quartet, op.70 (1967) and the
song ‘Automne’, op.60, no.3 (1963). Towards the end of 1968, Berkeley finalised
his Theme and Variations for piano-duet, op.73. All these have received at
least a single recording, although they can hardly be described as in the
general ‘classical’ repertoire. Berkeley also wrote the unaccompanied choral
piece ‘The Windhover: To Christ our Lord’, op.72, no.2 (1968). There was the
London premiere of the choral piece ‘Signs in the Dark’, op.69 (1967) which awaits
a commercial recording.

The Symphony No.3 was dedicated
to Anthony and Lili Hornby. Anthony was a stock-broker and art collector and
Lili was a dancer (Powell, 1995, p.224). The miniature score was published in
1971, by J & W Chester, priced £2.50.

Reception

The main critical contention of
the Symphony No.3 is its concentration of material and the subtle balance
between aggression and introspection. This work is far removed from the
expansive First (1940) and Fourth Symphonies (1978). The utilisation of
Berkeley’s own version of serialism has given it ‘a greater urgency without
sacrificing [its] lyrical qualities.’ (Dickinson, Peter, Lyrita SRCD.226 liner
note). As cited in Tony Scotland’s Lennox
and Freda (2010, p.431) Berkeley regarded serialism as ‘useful as a means
of developing musical ideas.’

Before the concert, Michael
Berkeley contributed a detailed discussion of the Symphony No.3 to The Listener (3 July 1969). Berkeley
(fils) puts his father’s new work into context. The Symphony still ‘carries the
marks of a style that is intricate and subtle, rather than grand or declamatory...’
Contrariwise, there is no resemblance, either formally or stylistically, to the
Symphonies No.1 and No.2. The present work is characterised by ‘a broadening of
the emotional range,’ and ‘a stricter economy of material’ which was first seen
in the one-act opera Castaway (1967).
It is striking for the use of thematic development prevalent in that work.In like manner, the ‘adventurous and
striking’ scoring was apparent in the Magnificat
(1968). Although Debussy, Fauré, Ravel and Poulenc are in ‘evidence’ in
Berkeley’s music, it has been ‘severely censured, and directed into a private
channel that now, more than ever, has its own individuality.’ It has become a
‘very personal’ style which is never ‘sensational.’The remainder of the article was largely redrafted
into the premiere’s programme notes.

The Birmingham Post (11 July 1969) reviewer K.W. Dommett reported that
Berkeley’s Symphony in One Movement ‘is a model of clarity of the kind commonly
associated with the other side of the channel.’ This repeats the commonly held
view that Berkeley is a Francophone composer. On the other hand, he is inclined
to believe that it has ‘a quiet, distinctive Englishness’ which is difficult to
define. Dommett picks up on the monothematic construction of the Symphony and
reiterates the programme notes’ statement that the material for all three
sections of the work is derived from the ‘triadic motto heard at the outset.’ This
is based on six notes from the chords D minor and B major. This critic feels that Berkeley’s
‘manipulation of this material is most ingenious, and the scoring is felicitous
throughout.’ Yet, there is a down side: ‘the final impression is of a polite
dissertation delivered in impeccable style, but without much inner conviction.’
An example of this disinterestedness is noted in the slow middle section, where
‘the succession of ascending and descending figures fails to generate any real
tension, or to convey any true sense of inevitability.’ In contradistinction to
Dommett, I find this ‘section’ one of the most magical parts of the whole
Symphony.

The Guardian gave two reviews of the Lennox Berkeley premiere. Edward
Greenfield (10 July 1969) began by noting the ‘sterling work’ done by the
Cheltenham Festival in commissioning new symphonies from British composers. He
understands that Berkeley’s Symphony stands in the Cheltenham Tradition and is
‘highly professional’ albeit having a ‘safe’ approach to formal structure. He
suggests that it was written with French orchestral players in mind, hence the
‘strong and dramatic first performance’ under the baton of Jean Martinon.
Greenfield felt that the Symphony was actually ‘more refined and French
sounding’ than the Roussel Piano Concerto. Berkeley’s ‘lessons’ with Nadia
Boulanger were ‘well learnt.’

I think that this is a fair
assessment. I disagree with his assertion that the slow middle section ‘is
disappointingly lacking in rhythmic interest’: this sounds ‘impressionistic,’
and most contributes to the undeniable Gallic mood.

Peter Heyworth (The Guardian 13 July 1969) gave an overview
of the recent Cheltenham Festival. Commenting on Berkeley’s Third Symphony, he
remarked that the composer ‘uses the well-tried device of a single movement
that embraces three sharply defined sub-movements…[and] does so with undeniable
mastery.’ It produces a work where ‘the argument is unfailingly coherent; the
sound is full and lucid and nicely varied.’ On the other hand, Heyworth wonders
if the Symphony ‘seem[s] to emerge from pre-packaged formulas’ generated over a
150-year period. Berkeley’s ‘take’ on this tradition is to create a piece that
‘is a well-turned piece of precision machinery.’ In his view, this contrasts
with Peter Maxwell Davies’s ‘harsh, angular and sometimes awkward…attempt to
take possession of a new world of feeling and experience…’ in his remarkable St. Thomas Wake, foxtrot for orchestra on a
pavan by John Bull, J. 78.

Martin Cooper (The Daily Telegraph, 10 July 1969)
understands that Berkeley has created a symphony that upholds many of the
traditions of ‘strict intellectual coherence and fundamental unity…that mark
symphonic thinking.’ Like all the critics, he has read Michael Berkeley’s
programme note. Cooper notes ‘the clash of tonalities in the opening bars is
effectively the works germ or motto’ which is often reprised either explicitly
or ‘lightly disguised.’ He recalls ‘openly lyrical sections’ such as the 5/8 ‘meno
vivo’ which is introduced by three flutes...’ This is a ‘happy…memory of a
French musical upbringing.’ Another lyrical moment is the ‘full-throated Lento
with its contrast of woodwind and divided strings…’ Cooper’s only censure
refers to the ‘excessive reliance on two-bar (question and answer) structures’
in the final Allegro. This, he feels, is ‘another legacy from the French school
and more remotely from the Russians.’ The performance under Jean Martinon was
‘boldly eloquent and well-nuanced.’

‘Perhaps even
more compact and economical [than the Hoddinott] was the…specially commissioned
Symphony in one movement of Lennox Berkeley.Again, its three interlocking sections are each vividly defined in mood
and colour but create a firm sense of inner coherence. For all three are based
on the same simple conflict between one major and one minor triad, a conflict
that is treated with considerable variety and resource, but with a deliberate
concentration of thought and a typically Gallic lucidity of texture and expression.’

It seems that this ‘Gallic’
connection is always brought to the fore.Henderson added that Berkeley’s Symphony ‘sounded amiable, optimistic in
tone and even rather benign in the presence of Peter Maxwell Davies's
challenging and much more pessimistic St Thomas Wake.’

Kenneth Dommett (see above) also
contributed a review to the now lamented Music
and Musicians (September 1969) where he reported that of all the ‘novelties’
presented at the Festival, the Berkeley ‘remains freshest in the memory.’ This
is because of ‘the assurance of its workmanship and the skill with which the
composer manipulated his two basic triads and constructed from them a symphonic
movement that, apart from the attenuations [weakening] of the slow middle
section, was concisely argued.’ Alas, Dommett’s final comment seemed to go
against what he had already said: it has ‘somehow failed to carry conviction is
its principal source of failure - although that is a relative term.’ Nevertheless,
it remains the only Symphony from 1969 that remains (tentatively) in the repertoire.

Finally, E.M. Webster (Musical Opinion, September 1969) was
enthused by the new Symphony. He reminded the reader that the concert on
Wednesday 9 July ‘was largely a French evening’, and that ‘it was a gala
occasion with royalty and civic dignitaries present...’ Webster felt that the
music ‘was suitably sparkling.’ Turning to the Berkeley premiere, he began by
suggesting that ‘one has come to regard Berkeley as a composer of gentle
etchings and sly pastiche.’ However, this symphony reveals him in ‘stronger
mood’ and ‘at last he permits certain fierce emotional impetus to dominate his
tightly-conceived construction.’ It is ‘much tougher and more forthright…than
is usual from this composer’s sensitive pen.’

Webster picks up on one of the
key attributes of the Symphony. Despite the ‘six-note series’, the ‘argument
progresses towards traditional tonality rather than away from it.’ He describes
its progress:

‘After a sharp,
clear cut opening statement, the conflict builds up to a restless, unresolved
tension (with warring major and minor chording) and leads into a contrapuntal
slow section in which there is some poignant and deep-centred lyric feeling.
The third section is brought in by a massive orchestral exclamation and some
swift excitable string scurries punctuated by fierce, orchestral tutti chords.
But here the impetus unexpectedly slackens, and the orchestration becomes a
trifle diffuse and fussy. However, a powerful climax ensues which brings back
some of the strength that was lost, and the work ends with a fairly obvious and
cheerful reconciliation.’

Webster reports that the French
orchestra ‘had clearly taken trouble over [the Symphony] so that it came over
clear and strong.’

In conclusion, a few years ago
(27 November 1990) in an interview with Peter Dickinson (2012, p.266) Michael
Berkeley stated: ‘…the Third Symphony is very powerful because it’s muscular
and taut. At that time, I was working a little bit with him and I can remember
trying to tempt him to push out even further. I suggested the side-drum rim
shot [a drum stroke in which the stick strikes the rim and the head of the drum
simultaneously] on the last chord.’

Listed here are works
commissioned or premiered at the 1969 Cheltenham Festival. Some of these have
been recorded and others can be found (accessed January 2019) on YouTube. Apart from Berkeley’s Symphony
and Peter Maxwell Davies’s St. Thomas
Wake, foxtrot none seem to have established more than a toe-hold in the
repertoire half a century later. Several have simply disappeared.

Thursday, 25 April 2019

I
was looking at works by Herbert Howells that reach their half-centenary in
2019.I consulted the catalogue included
in The Music of Herbert Howells (ed.
Cooke and Maw, The Boydell Press, Woodbridge, 2013) to see what music was
written during that year. Included in the works list, was A Flourish for Bidding(H.H.326) for organ. It was not until I began
further investigation that I discovered that this is an error. In fact, it was
written the previous year, 1968. My primary
source for this revised date is Gillian Widdicombe’s article the Musical Times (November 1968) where she
describes the circumstances of premiere in some detail.

Other
music that Howells was working on at this time included the Coventry Mass and a couple of hymn
tunes: ‘In Manus Tuas’ and ‘Norfolk’.

I have
been aware of Herbert Howells short celebratory piece for organ, Flourish for a Bidding for several
years. However, I misunderstood its genesis. I assumed that it somehow referred
to a ‘bidding prayer’ as used in church. In other words, an invitation from the
vicar to his congregation to join in prayer. I was wrong. This attractive piece
was completed on 29 August 1968 and was presented at an auction to raise money
for the Royal College of Organists [RCO] Centenary Fund, hence ‘bidding’. Between
the years 1958-1960 Howells was President of the RCO and remained involved, so
he would have been the ideal person to approach for a new work, even if it was
deemed to be ephemeral. Novello paid the
princely sum of £21.00 for the manuscript.The
story of the other bids in this auction may be the subject of a further post.

George
Thalben-Ball (1896-1987) gave the first performance of the Flourish on 28 September 1968 at the Royal College of Organists which
were at that time based in Kensington Gore. Thalben-Ball was five years shy of the 50th
anniversary of his appointment to the post of Organist at Temple Church. He was
currently City Organist of Birmingham and was still working at the BBC. In 1968
he married his second wife, Jennifer Bate. He was aged 72 years.

The
organ played at the RCO was the then new three-manual Messrs William Hill and
Son and Norman & Beard Ltd instrument commissioned on 7 October 1967. It is
interesting that this instrument was not typical of the design usually required
for Howells’s music. It had been influenced by the Organ Reform principles
which was inspired by the ‘Back to Bach and Baroque’ movement.Most of Howells’s organ works are designed
for the more romantic sounding ‘orchestral’ organ.

Despite
the composer having a nine-year interregnum in writing organ music he was to
have two new works performed over a period of three days: on 25 September, John
Birch played Howells’s Rhapsody No.4 at Westminster Abbey. This work had been
composed during April 1958 and was later published together with the Prelude: ‘De
Profundis’ by Novello in 1983.

The Flourish is
much less ‘romantic’ in sound than Howells earlier organ ‘Rhapsodies’ and Psalm
Tune Preludes and relies on jerky, ‘declamatory’ phrases to provide the
momentum. It is typically in ternary form, with the two ‘sections’
repeated several times. It opens with an ‘allegro energico’ presenting a powerful
paean of praise. The opening bar gives the basic germ of much of the
piece.There is a good balance here
between three-part counterpoint and incisive chords played over a busy pedal
part.The piece begins in 3/4 metre but
frequently interposes bars of 2/4 time. Each section is presented around a rapidly
modulating tonal centre beginning on A minor and ending in C major. The final
chord may be a bit of a cliché: C major with the added 7th (B
natural), but it is effective. Robin Wells (Musical
Times, August 1987) has noted that the musical style is like the Partita (1972) and the Epilogue (1974). Several of the ideas in the Flourish
were to reappear in this Partita for organ composed in 1971 for the then Prime
Minister Edward Heath.

A Flourish for Bidding was included in Three Pieces, published by Novello in 1987. The other two works
were ‘Intrata No.2’ and ‘St Louis comes to Clifton.’ It was edited by Robin
Wells.

A good recording of this work, played
by Adrian Partington, was issued on The Organ Music of Herbert Howells Vol 3 - The Organ
of Winchester Cathedral the Priory Label (PRCD 547) in 1998. This
track has been uploaded to YouTube.

About Me

I am over sixty years old: the end of the run of baby boomers! I was born in Glasgow, moving south to York in the late ‘seventies. My main interest is British Music from the nineteenth century onwards. I love the ‘arch-typical’ English countryside – and have always wanted to ‘Go West, Boy’. A. E. Housman and the ‘Georgian’ poets are a huge influence on my aesthetic. I have spent much of my life looking for the ‘Land of Lost Content’ and only occasionally glimpsed it…somewhere in…???
My recently published work includes essays on Ivor Gurney’s song ‘The Carol of Skiddaw Yowes.’ for the Gurney Society Journal, Alan Rawsthorne’s Cello Concerto for the Rawsthorne Society Journal and Delius song ‘I Brasil’. I have contributed to the journals of the British Music Society, the Ralph Vaughan Williams Society, the Finzi Society, the Bliss Society, the Glasgow Society of Organists, the Berkeley Society, and regular CD reviews for MusicWeb International. I regularly contribute programme notes to the English Music Festival.